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    Summary

    “We have a problem.” Satoru announces, slamming into Suguru’s studio two days later. He feels guilty. Like so so guilty.

    “That so?” Suguru asks from his bed, lounging in a pair of sweats, his shirt hiked up. He scratches at his happy trail and glances over at Satoru. His demeanor changes instantly at whatever he sees on Satoru’s face. He swings his feet off his low bed, sitting up and leaning forward. “Satoru, what’s wrong?”

    Satoru situates himself on the bed next to Suguru, crossing his legs and sitting so they’re facing each other. He meets Suguru’s eyes and cannot speak. Totally blank brain. Suguru touches his knee gently, probably about to say something helpful and kind like take your time or whatever you need.

    For some reason, Satoru panics.

    “I can’t come.” He announces, much louder than he needs to. “Unless I’m thinking about you.”

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